Dear Matt,

Now, you didn't think you were gonna graduate on all of us and not be subjected to this picture one more time, did you?

I just embarrassed you, dear nephew. But I love that picture. It's been hanging on the wall of this office for many years. It makes me smile.

But you've long outgrown that punkin suit and have new places to go.

Last Monday evening, your Aunt Kathy and I hydroplaned our way in The Mighty Bug north on Rt. 123 through a wicked storm to sit with the crowd in the Patriot Center at George Mason University to watch you and 649 of your young colleagues graduate to expanded lives. The clan was there, mushed into stadium seating, watching for you in your purple cap and gown.

We were all gifted with programs when we entered the premises. I looked inside this Chantilly High School Class of 2006 booklet for your name:

Matthew Charles Gillen

And there were five symbols printed next to it.

French Honor Society, Tri-M Honor Society, National Honor Society, Advanced Placement Diploma, and 4.0 GPA.

How'd you do all that, Matt, plus swim and play music and soccer and basketball?

It makes me tired just thinking about it.

None of your grandparents could be there, though they would have wanted to be. In fact, your father's father heard of your birth, but never got the chance to hold you. He died in his sleep a week after you were born. I know this put a dent in my brother's heart, but I also know that your grandfather would have liked you so much.

So it's off to UVA for you, to study engineering. You've told me you want to design mechanical hearts, the things that can help people live longer lives.

There is a quote, from a book called The Little Prince, that reads:

"What is essential is invisible to the eye."

Make us well, Matt.